


Sleeping In

by prouvairecateur



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:03:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairecateur/pseuds/prouvairecateur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was always surprising when Grantaire woke before Enjolras did. It was common knowledge that Enjolras liked to get an early start to the day, and Grantaire much preferred sleeping in. If Grantaire woke before Enjolras did, it meant only one of two things: either Enjolras was sick, or it was his birthday. These were the only times that he had allowed himself to sleep past nine in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping In

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic for a giveaway I am doing on tumblr.

It was always surprising when Grantaire woke before Enjolras did. It was common knowledge that Enjolras liked to get an early start to the day, and Grantaire much preferred sleeping in. If Grantaire woke before Enjolras did, it meant only one of two things: either Enjolras was sick, or it was his birthday. These were the only times that he had allowed himself to sleep past nine in the morning. 

When Grantaire could still feel Enjolras curled up next to him, he had suspected the worst. Careful not to wake his lover up, he felt the man’s face for any sign that he might have a fever. From what Grantaire could tell, his body temperature seemed fine. He tried to think back to last night to remember if there were any symptoms he could notice. Honestly, he would not have been able to notice if anything was wrong- he had been a bit distracted.

If Enjolras was not sick that can only mean...Grantaire gasped. Had he forgotten Enjolras' birthday? 

Careful not to wake the sleeping man next to him, he slipped out of bed and made his way from the bedroom to the kitchen. The only way he could think to make up for it at this point would be to put together a big breakfast. He was not sure if Enjolras would be angry or not when he found out that Grantaire forgot his birthday, so just to be on the safe side, he decided to make all of the breakfast food he could find. There wasn’t much to begin with, but after about thirty minutes, he had toast, bacon, and eggs on a plate for Enjolras. He also made sure to have a pot of coffee going, doing that last to not wake the man up with the smell. While everything was cooking, he had made a card out of some plain white sheets of paper and a set of Crayola markers, most likely sitting around from when Gavroche was over. He scribbled a doodle of something that looked like a bear holding flowers, and wrote as sentimental a note as he could in about three minutes. 

With everything set, he quietly shuffled back to the bedroom to wake the birthday boy. He was extra careful when pushing the door open, especially when he found Enjolras still sound asleep in the bed. Grantaire was almost tempted to take the food back to the kitchen and let the blond sleep, but at that moment, the door decided to make a loud creaking sound. He looked to the door then back to the sleeping man, who unfortunately was not as asleep as he was before. 

His eyes were open, though still heavy with sleep in them, and he was giving Grantaire a questioning look. Before he could say anything, Grantaire moved into the room, timidly singing “Happy Birthday”. If Enjolras was not confused before, he surely was now. His eyes followed the dark-haired man, as he came to sit on the bed next to Enjolras, leaning across him to set the plate of food on the nightstand. Grantaire smiled sweetly, placing a kiss on his lover’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Enjolras.”

Enjolras moved to sit up, glancing at the food on the table, then at the homemade card in Grantaire’s hands. “Grantaire,” he murmured slowly, drawing out the last syllable, “it’s not my birthday.”   
The man’s eyebrows furrowed. “It’s not?” Enjolras bit his lower lip and shook his head. Grantaire was silent for several moments, deep in thought. “Are you sure?”

Enjolras chuckled, the sound echoing against the wall behind them. He could not help himself when he saw the look on Grantaire’s face. He knew the man was trying to do something special for him, he just did not know why. “What month is it?”

“April.”

“And what month is my birthday.”

“Enjolras, your birthday is July fourteenth. Honestly, you don’t think I woul-...oh.” Grantaire could feel his face flushing, as he fell back against the headboard. Enjolras watched his chest rise and fall with each breath, his outline backlit by the rising sun in the window behind him. He would not have been surprised if he was grinning like a fool. Enjolras nearly jumped out of his skin, when Grantaire whipped his head to stare at him. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Are you?” Enjolras retorted, trying hard not to laugh anymore. Normally, he was the serious one and Grantaire made the jokes, but there was something odd about the pair of them that day. 

Grantaire rolled his eyes and pushed himself onto his knees, leaning forward to get closer to Enjolras. He repeated his motions from earlier in the morning, brushing his hand across the other man’s face, feeling for a temperature. He then used his thumb and forefinger to pull each of Enjolras’ eyelids apart- of what he was looking for, neither could be sure. “If it isn’t your birthday, then you must be sick. There is no other reason that you would still be in bed this late in the morning.” By now, Grantaire was sounding borderline frantic. “You are usually up before the sun is, making yourself a cup of coffee and making comments about the misrepresentation of something or other in the newspaper. Then you take an incredibly hot shower, and hum eighteenth century classical music. By the time I am up and out of the bedroom, you are sitting in the living room with your second- no third cup of coffee, watching the news. A few more comments about the ‘corrupt media sources influencing our thoughts and behaviors’, and then you finish getting ready for the day.” 

Enjolras could do nothing but stare at him. When he knew Grantaire was done speaking he asked, “How do you know all that?”

“I can smell the coffee and can hear you grumbling under your breath. The shower is always run cold, when I finally get to it. When do you hum anything else, and the wall separating the bathroom from the bedroom is incredibly thin.” He breathed in deeply and shrugged, letting all the air in his body out with a great puff. “I guess I just pay attention to little things like that.”

Enjolras closed the distance between them and gave Grantaire a soft kiss. The dark-haired man ended it quickly, muttering something about morning breath and food getting cold. Enjolras just scoffed and pulled the man against his side, enveloping him in his warm embrace. They laid together for several minutes, letting the food and coffee- still in the kitchen- get cold. Neither of them made a sound until Grantaire shifted to look up at Enjolras. “Why are you still in bed so late this morning.”

The blond raised his shoulders slightly and gave a small hum. “I guess I just wanted to sleep in a bit.”

“I will never understand you,” Grantaire muttered, shaking his head. This made his hair brush across Enjolras’ cheek, making him sigh with content. 

“And you never will.”


End file.
